


T-N-T-

by citrusjava



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Lust Potion/Spell, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pining, SPN Maquerade 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:54:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23163577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrusjava/pseuds/citrusjava
Summary: Run of the mill lust spell
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Kudos: 54
Collections: SPN_Masquerade Spring 2020





	T-N-T-

Sam didn’t want to think about it. Over the years it shifted, labels fading like the ones on Dean’s old tapes. But it never stopped.

Maybe Dean had it right. No chick flick moments. He remembered Dean that night, covered in mud and gorgeous - like one of Dean’s monster hentai vids. Leave it to Dean to find ridiculous cartoon porn, and bring it into being as if it belonged there.

For so long Sam had picked at it, was never able to stop his thoughts from returning there. Like the time he was supposed to stop scratching the wall. Like fingers itching to prod at a wound, anxious and without thought.

Losing Dean that time was the one that changed him. Nothing new about that time, it was just the one t many.

Ever since then, Sam was about at capacity for pain. It was just a fact, something Sam needed to keep an eye on. Try to avoid making too -big moves and losing his footing. Another thing he didn’t want Dean to know.

Sam changed, but his feelings remained impossibly, stubbornly consistent. Labels flake and fade but the song remains the same. He was so desperate, so angry, so helplessly focused on Dean’s everything. Sam had learned to seem blank, to seem normal. But for so much of his life he was angry, desperate, smitten, self-loathing.

_

Dean was playing his AC/DC, singing – “I’m TNT, watch me exploooode”, wriggling his eyebrows at Sam, suggestive. Sam had learned to love and fear those moments, Sam’s heart overflowing with “Deannnnnn”. He was used to it. For years he had taught himself to push it down. Taught himself to bitchface and tell Dean off with a little smile. Tell Dean to grow up.

Dean had grown up, too much, honestly. Over time, Sam watched Dean get hopeless, get more depressed, through the mark, through it all.

Sam grudgingly admitted to himself, disgusted, that he found it beautiful. Hot. Older, sadder Dean was just another type of Dean to be helplessly in love with.

_Dean tried to work open the small box, a tiny sugar cube chest with intricate curlicues. Dean’s expert fingers smoothed over the box’s edges, learning it and finding the subtle hidden hook.

The box slipped open, slipping to the floor. Sam reached for it. It was not filled with sugar cubes.

_

Dean, you need to get away from me, Sam said, terrified, teeth clenched. It had to be some kind of spell – truth spell? Love spell? Rape your baffled brother now spell?

Dean gave him a wide-eyed look, clearly already having brushed off Sam’s warning.

“Sammy?” He grabbed Sam’s face, oblivious, hands in Sam’s hair.

“Dean, I mean it!”

“Sammy, what the hell? What’s happening?”

He looked into Sam’s eyes, trying to understand. His hand was at Sam’s neck, stabling, so sure.

“Dean, you need to stop. You need to to leave before I- “

Then Dean started to feel it too. 

_

Dean’s hands were already on Sam’s face and neck, and he pulled Sam in, warm and enveloping. Sam moaned into Dean’s lips, melting, disoriented with years of longing, of knowing this was not reality.

Dean had pushed him down to the floor, large arms keeping Sam warm. Sam luxuriated in it, his body loose with pleasure, writhing against his brother.

Then he remembered – Dean didn’t want this. Dean didn’t want this.

And it turned out a lifetime of bitterness was worth something after all. It turned out it might make you sad enough to snap out of it, to break the hold of a lust spell. “Dean, fucking stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Get off of me”.

Dean did, and Sam’s whole body shrieked in protest.

Dean’s eyes were dazed, that little hurt Dean was never able to hide.

He turned away, face stony. “Sorry, Sammy. I’m so fucking sorry. Fuck. Fuck”.

He shot Sam a frightened look, not seeing. “How am I supposed to even say sorry, standing here with this?” He gestured at his erection

The grace in Dean’s movement sent Sam’s heart into a painful, bittersweet twinge. Sam tried to think through the mess in his head. “it’s just the box, Dean”.

“I’m gonna get out of here, Sam, like you said”. Dean was trying to find his jacket, his keys. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, Sammy! I never wanted you to find out”.

Sam had located the little box that had been knocked to the side. He was trying to find the small hook to close it, when found Dean’s eyes looking atSam’s fingers, mesmerized. “It’s a lust spell, Dean”.

Dean swallowed, trying to look away, meet Sam’s eyes.

“Dean can you close this? You figured out before how to open it”.

Dean took the box, slow, slow, eyes wide and breath shallow. His gaze flickered over Sam’s body, eyes, body, eyes, as his hands automatically worked the box.

“I want this so bad, Sammy”, he was saying in a low voice.

“I know, Dean, it will be better in a minute”.  
Dean wasn’t listening. “I want this so bad. I’m not right. I know. I’ve known for years. I want it’.

Shit. This wasn’t working, the box was open, and it was only getting worse. What if-Sam took a long, unstable breath. “Dean. Shit. Do you think it might be a fuck or die?

Dean’s expression went blank. “yeah”, he agreed, short, looking away. “Yeah. Shit”. He ran a hand over his face.

“Dean, I’m so sorry, it’s – so stupid. Who is the idiot that invented spells for this? But – if we need to- we need to- “

Dean blushed like a flower. He gulped, and moved haltingly, shakily, towards Sam. He put the box down to free his hands, unthinkingly closing it.

Sam and Dean both snapped to look at it. Like a gasp.

The hum of magic was no longer there, in Sam’s limbs.  
Sam took a deep breath, relieved and devastated.

“It isn’t a fuck or die”.

Dean’s breath was still shallow.

“It isn’t”.

Dean licked his lips, more nerves than seduction.

“So what you said earlier – “

“Lust spell”.

“Sure”.

Dean licked his lips again.

“brothers! Gnarly” Dean gave a half grin.

“Sure, Dean’.

Dean’s eyes were still warm, and his gaze kept slipping to Sam’s mouth.

Sam felt himself lick his lips, and Dean’s eyes got round.

Sam’s insides hummed with it, a different hum than the spell’s. The hum of attention, of love and lust and fondness built over many years.

“Dean, do you maybe want – “

“What?” Dean said, terrified.

“Do you wanna go through with it?”

And Dean was pressing Sam to the floor, holding him warm, and the world was OK, really


End file.
